


pro patria mori

by kyrilu



Category: House of Cards (US TV)
Genre: Character Study, Loyalty, Masturbation, Missing Scene, Multi, Power Dynamics, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism, 中文翻译 | Translation in Chinese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 01:22:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1207573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrilu/pseuds/kyrilu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What better way to ensure a man's loyalty that to make him fall for the very people he serves?</p>
            </blockquote>





	pro patria mori

**Author's Note:**

> Chinese translation is at http://www.mtslash.com/thread-110976-1-1.html, thanks to the wonderful jubju122. :)

Subtlety is a fine tool. But there are moments when Frank decides, _to hell with it,_ and drives forward. He has threatened, he has bribed, he has blackmailed, he has leveraged, but there are times when he simply has to ask.

When Meechum catches him watching something ‘other than news,’ as he succinctly tells Claire later, Frank takes in the darkening in Edward’s eyes, the light flush of his cheeks.

It seems as if Frank has his answer.

 

 

Here’s something that happens, afterwards: Edward walks in, he walks out, and he feels something warm and dangerous at the bottom of his stomach. It’s _wrong, wrong, wrong_ but he is caught by the memory of Mr. Underwood’s amused voice, rough and imbued with teasing.

He escapes to the nearest room he can find, which happens to be a stray closet. He holds his composure until the last possible minute, then he shuts the door, sinks to his knees.

He’s _hard._

With a slow breath, he curls his hands over his knees, a tight grip over dark fabric trousers, and wills himself to stop.

 

 

Here’s something that Edward doesn’t know: he’s outside, listening. Frank’s back is pressed against the closet door, and he hears Edward’s quiet breaths. Inhale, exhale, inhale, and exhale – it’s at an uneven rate, and he counts them.

He waits. And then there’s the noise he’s been waiting for. A choked sigh, something like a half-sob and a curse.

“Well,” Frank says softly to himself. “There it is.”

He bends into a sitting position – he can tell that Edward’s lower on the ground. Trembling. Hit with a revelation.

He touches the door, feeling the wood underneath his fingertips. If he closes his eyes, he thinks that he can catch the warmth through his hands.

It’s power in its simplest form, outside of politics and reduced into carnality. It’s satisfaction in its basest form – on the other side of the door, there is a man who would die for him and his wife, a man who is trapped in a small corner, a man who is fumbling at his suited trousers and reaching for his cock.

_Think of me. Think of her._

Frank would breathe, too, overcome by the heady sensation of it all, but he doesn’t want to disturb Edward’s little moment.

 

 

Here’s something that goes on at the opposite side: Edward is palming himself through his pants, quick and messy. He wants instant gratification and he wants it to be done.

He’s fucked women before, but never men. Nevertheless, Frank Underwood is an easy picture to bring up in his mind, as easy as Claire Underwood. They attract him, like the pull of magnets. He can remember the flutter of brief, passing touches. Those touches linger.

(Those touches are calculated. Those touches see the way he stares at Adam Galloway’s photograph of Claire, large and blown up for the world to see. Those touches see the way he smiles at them, hesitant and attempting to be impassive, but it’s there, at the edges of his mouth.)

He says, quietly, “Sir,” out into the air, like an apology. As if he knows that Frank is on the other side, overhearing, one hand clenched over the doorknob like he’s about to open it.

 

 

Here’s an old saying: _Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori._

Edward is who he is because he wants to protect his country. Despite all the cynicism and pessimism of the world, there is still a little boy who sees fireworks with hope in his eyes.

The twist is this: Frank is scornful of patriots. He’s in politics because of the rush, the victories, and the games. He says that he’s serving his country because that is what everyone else expects to hear. He says that he’s on the side of the Democratic Party, on President Walker’s side, on Peter Russo’s side, but by the end of the day he’s on his own side and Claire’s.

 This is the choice that Frank has made: _They will be Edward Meechum’s country._

This is the side that he’s carved out for his own. Many of the players will be disposable, many will be gone: take Freddy Armstrong, take Douglas Stamper, take Zoe Barnes.

They will revolve around him, and Claire, and whatever things they will take and rule.

 

 

Here’s the truth: _Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori_ is a myth. As is Aeneas’ empire without an end; as is every king’s reign.

When the day comes, Edward will say _No_ to them for the first time, and they’ll know betrayal.

For now, he closes his eyes tightly, shaking, and still loves them.


End file.
